Maidservant Merlin Verse
by Lassroyale
Summary: Herein chronicles the misadventures of Prince Arthur and his new maidservant, Merlin girl!Merlin
1. A Maidservant Named Merlin

**A/N:** I was tickled by the thought of how the dynamic would change with a girl Merlin so I had to write one myself. This maybe an ongoing verse, though it would be second to a few other WIP's. Please let me know if you guys enjoy it!

**Part the First**

***

Long before Merlin arrived in Camelot, she knew she was trash. Her blood wasn't blue; it was red, common. Her mother was of peasant stock, her unrefined bloodlines reflected in the broadness of her face and coarseness of her hands and feet.

Merlin looked different from her though - she was tall, long-limbed, with a swash of dark hair she generally wore tied back into a simple braid. She had a long neck and planes of smooth pale skin that never seemed to tan. Her singular greatest feature was her eyes, as blue and rich as lapis lazuli.

She should have been beautiful. She wasn't.

Merlin was too angular, her gait coltish, like she'd been passed over for all of the charms that made a woman graceful, beautiful. She was almost gangly, a newborn fawn who was all shaky legs and no heft. Her breasts were pert and round, but they lacked the heaviness to fill out her loose tunics. Most men thought her height was a detriment, too tall to talk down to; too tall to tame.

And Merlin was wild.

When she was a child she played with the local boys. She'd come home with deep grass stains on her knobby knees and scrapes on he elbows. She'd grown fast and she, with Will at her side, had dominated the fortresses that the she and the other boys built. However, by the time they'd begun to notice the village girls (and Merlin was excluded from this category) they'd cast her out of the circle.

Only Will still hung around and perhaps as compensation or maybe a matter of practicality, she'd given Will her maidenhead in a field of wildflowers near the village. It'd been an awkward affair and they'd tried it a few times after that, but it drove a rift in their friendship. It changed things. At least she'd learned very quickly an incantation to prevent her womb from being fertilized, much to her mother's relief.

Plus, Merlin was fairly certain that this whole "sex" deal should last more than a handful of minutes, at least if the stories from some of the prettier, more promiscuous village girls were anything to go by.

She was allowed in those circles only because she was female. Even still, Merlin preferred to spend time on her own rather than suffer the pitying stares and often cruel comments that nipped at her ankles as she passed by. She had little patience for it. She had better things to do.

She had her magic.

Her magic was precisely what had landed her the unfortunate job as Prince Arthur's maidservant. The king had declared it a reward for saving the prat's life. Arthur had taken one look at her and stated, "You'd make a better man." Merlin had replied, "And you make a perfect fool, _sire_."

And that had been _that_.

***

Being Arthur's maidservant had turned out to be a lot of responsibility, what with all the saving of his princely arse and polishing the endless amount of armor he seemed to always produce. Merlin discovered that she had less patience for suffering fools than she thought she did, while Arthur seemed to discover that he had a fondness for making her exceedingly vexed. Not only that, but he possessed the talent for digging himself right beneath her skin and sticking, his words and taunts echoing in her head for hours afterwards.

Merlin sighed as she watched Arthur eye the garments she'd lain out for him critically, then turned and ignored him to stare out the window. Today was a tournament day or something like that - really, it simply meant that there was more for her to attend to, including figuring out how to get Arthur into all that damned polished armor of his. She drummed her long fingers on the windowsill impatiently as she looked out towards the practice field, where numerous standards from competing knights were flying in the wind outside of their tents.

"Really _Merlin_," drawled Arthur from directly behind her, "you were late this morning and now you can't even be a little patient with me? Today is an important day, after all."

Merlin turned and practically came nose-to-nose with Arthur. She was about his same height, a fact he seemed to always forget because his eyes widened in surprise and he took a quick step backwards. Merlin had to wonder if she were really _that_ ugly, before she banished the thought entirely, her mouth tugging down into a frown. "You're going to be sweaty and cranky all day," she complained, slouching back onto the windowsill a bit; she could see the lecture of, '_manners, Merlin'_ warming on Arthur's tongue when he parted his lips.

Merlin absently sucked on the end of her braid, wetting the dark strands of hair as she looked back out the window. She heard Arthur count backwards from ten beneath his breath and shot him a cheeky grin. "You're the worst manservant I've ever had," he muttered.

"Maidservant," Merlin corrected. Now it was Arthur's turn to smile, though his was sharp with a cutting edge.

"Could've fooled me."

Later, Merlin was sure to tug the hairbrush through Arthur's blonde hair as violently as she could, her hand a fist around the handle.

***

Merlin's prediction was only partially right: Arthur _was_ sweaty, but his spirits were bolstered by his victories for the day, so he was in a good mood overall. He'd loaded Merlin with his armor (how he reckoned she was going to carry all of it, she didn't know) and then waltzed off with some of his knights, no doubt to drink and be congratulated. Merlin swatted a loose tendril of raven-black hair from her face in exasperation and trudged to the armory.

At least magic made the load considerably lighter.

Merlin had just finished cleaning and placing Arthur's armor in its spot, when she heard a noise like the soft rasp of fingernails along stone. Thinking it a rat or maybe well, a rat, Merlin ferreted out the source of the noise and came face to face with...a _shield_. Huh.

After a moment she identified the snake emblem as belonging to Sir Valiant. Her upper lip curled in distaste - the way that man basically drooled on Morgana's skirts as soon as he laid eyes on her, hadn't done anything to make him seem very valiant in Merlin's eyes. She straightened and began to turn away, when she caught movement from the corner of her eye. When she looked back at the shield, one of the snakes winked at her.

Merlin couldn't stop the gasp that pushed from her throat, nor could she help her clumsy stumble as she fell back into a rack of armor - Arthur's, she had _just_ finished putting it all together neatly! Suffice to say, she created a clamor that rang in her ears.

"Aren't you just a clumsy lass?" sneered a voice from the doorway. Merlin turned and saw Valiant standing just inside the doorframe, arms crossed, and a suspicious expression on his face. He unfolded his arms and reached behind him to shut the door behind him, quietly. Merlin ignored him and bit back the immediate retort that came to mind at his words. This wasn't Arthur; this man was as likely to have her whipped for insulting him as he was to command her to go fetch him some water. Instead she bent and began the painstaking process of replacing Arthur's armor on its rack - it'd be so much easier if she could just use her magic to nicely place the pieces where they belonged.

Valiant strode forward and caught her wrist, then whirled her forcibly so that she was facing him, pulled against his chest. His breath was stale with rot (likely a decaying tooth) and Merlin wrinkled her nose and tried to pull away. Valiant smiled and brought his face close. "You're Prince Arthur's maidservant, aren't you?" he asked. His eyes roved her face, appraisingly. "Too bad you're not pretty, otherwise you might get to warm the prince's bed instead of washing his soiled linens."

Merlin's pale cheeks flushed with angrily and she tried to yank out of Valiant's grip. She was used to being insulted; she'd been told that she wasn't beautiful her whole life. Still, she'd never been told so baldly. Admittedly, it chafed, it _stung_. "Yes milord," she ground out, as evenly she could, given the circumstances. "I am not as fortunate to be graced with such beauty as Lady Morgana, but few are. Now if you'd let me go, _please_," she spat the word like it were as foul as Valiant's breath, "I need to tend to other duties for the Prince."

Valiant didn't relinquish his grip. His fingers tightened around her arm, closing around her flesh until it hurt. "You're not pretty," he continued, his eyes fixed to her mouth, "but you _are_ striking. There's something strange about you." He looked around and made sure that the door was still shut. "Surely you can spare a moment to service one Camelot's guests?" He grinned now, revealing the rotting tooth. "Normally for someone like you I'd require a few tankards of ale but my blood is hot."

Merlin's eyes widened as Valiant swung her around abruptly and forced her against the wall. She knocked her mouth against the stone and her teeth cut her bottom lip. She felt blood dribble down her chin. Merlin felt fury flare hot and poignant behind her eyes as she struggled back. Words of magic were on her lips - it was forbidden, but she was prepared to use it to protect herself. Valiant fumbled with her skirts pushing them up, bunching them at her thighs as he kicked her legs apart.

Merlin began to weave her magic, her eyes turning gold, when the door to the armory opened suddenly. "What's going on?" a deep male voice exclaimed, which Merlin immediately recognized as Sir Owain's. "Get away from the lady, _sir_, and get out of here." Owain pulled Valiant away and shoved him towards the door.

Valiant inclined his head towards the other knight, not even acknowledging Merlin as he strode from the room with his head held high. Cocky bastard. Merlin pulled herself up from her bent position and smoothed her skirts. Her hands were shaking with rage: Valiant nearly raped her and there was no consequence! She wanted to scream her frustration.

"Are you hurt?"

Merlin didn't register that Sir Owain had spoken until he repeated himself. She looked towards the knight who regarded her stiffly, though with kindness in his eyes. She relaxed minutely and some of her fury ebbed from her. She touched her bruised, cut lip with one finger. "I'll live, milord," she replied, remembering her manners at the last moment.

"Good," said Sir Owain. He handed her a handkerchief from his pocket, which she took after a moment's hesitation. "Go get cleaned up and speak of this to no one." Merlin opened her mouth to protest, forgetting herself as indignation stormed up from within her to color the angular planes of her cheeks an ugly red. Sir Owain held up a hand, as if anticipating the tirade she was about to launch into. "Just go, milady," he said firmly, "do not tell the Prince." Owain hesitated, then added in a softer voice, "He will not understand."

The ugly truth dawned on Merlin and she turned away from Sir Owain and headed to the door, tears of fury shining in her eyes. She was just a servant - Arthur's maidservant, yes, but still a servant. If a knight wanted to bed her...

Merlin departed the armory without another word.

Later, at dinner, Arthur stopped her before she could leave his room. He approached her and lifted a hand to her face, curving his fingers beneath her chin. "What happened to your lip?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

Merlin averted her eyes and mumbled, "Nothing." Arthur held her chin for a moment longer before he dropped his hand. He dismissed her with a wave and didn't return her quiet, "Goodnight."

***

It turned out that with her help (and a healthy dose of magic) all of Camelot soon found out what a scoundrel Sir Valiant was. In fact, Arthur killed him on the tournament field after Sir Valiant proved himself to be treacherous sorcerer. All of Camelot rejoiced in Arthur's victory, especially Merlin.

She stood amidst the celebration and looked as out of place as she could possibly look. She tugged at the unnaturally tight dress - she preferred looser bodices - and twisted her hands in front of her to keep from scratching at her face. Before the celebration, Gwen and Morgana had drawn her aside and demanded she tell them what had happened to her lip. Between Morgana's icy, relentless stare and Gwen's kind, soft voice, Merlin had relented and explained what had happened with Sir Valiant.

Morgana had been outraged and it was nice to have someone be angry for her, to understand how she felt. She'd insisted on going to Arthur and telling him, but Merlin had been resolute that Arthur not know. In the end, along with Gwen's urging, they had managed to keep Morgana from seeking Arthur out that instant. She'd relented, but Merlin had seen her pitying stare from the corner of her eye whenever Morgana looked at her.

"You aren't going to the celebration like _that_," Morgana had announced, her gaze sweeping Merlin from head-to-toe. "We can do better, can't we Gwen?" Gwen had agreed though Merlin caught the apology in her smile when she looked at her.

Morgana had dressed Merlin in a plain, deep blue gown that brought out the unique color of Merlin's eyes. It accentuated the length and slimness of her torso, and flared out gently at the hips to hide her boyish figure with a more feminine silhouette. Gwen had let her hair down, which Merlin was unused to, and Morgana had rimmed her eyes with something called kohl. Finally, they'd dabbed a bit of crushed red berry on her lips to give them a hint of color.

"Perfect!" they'd exclaimed in unison. When Merlin had looked into the mirror, she thought she looked silly but had smiled and thanked them, anyway.

Merlin decided that the stares she received at the celebration were mostly due to shock and perplexity, and not because she looked any different. She wanted to go wash her face but paused when she turned and caught Arthur staring at her from across the room. His expression was unreadable from that distance, though Merlin felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

She wondered if _he_ thought she looked different. Merlin immediately scowled - she shouldn't care what _he_ thought, at all.

She turned to leave and was confronted by Sir Owain. The knight looked a little nervous, maybe embarrassed, and the slightest bit drunk. "Milady," he said with an attractive smile, "would you dance with me?"

Merlin was taken aback and she hemmed and hawed for a moment, completely forgetting her manners, when Sir Owain took her by the hand and led her to the dance area. She began to protest but Sir Owain simply laughed and placed his hand on her hip and began to lead her through a series of steps that she didn't know. Merlin stepped on his feet and elbowed other dancers in the side as she gamboled wildly with Owain, managing to make it through a fast waltz and a slower dance, before the knight let her go with a promise of more dancing to come.

Merlin grinned widely, very unlady-like, and began to work her way to the refreshments. She felt a hand snake out of the crowd and close around her upper arm. She turned and saw Arthur. He looked furious. Without a word, Arthur dragged Merlin through the celebration and out into the hallway, not pausing until they came across an empty corridor. He released her arm and Merlin immediately whirled on him.

"What was that for?" she demanded, irritated.

Arthur folded his arms across his chest and looked her up and down, condescendingly. "What's this all about Merlin? You look foolish."

That _hurt_. After everything she had done for Arthur (albeit without his knowledge) he still only saw fit to insult her. She felt tears spring from nowhere, frustration, loneliness, and plain bruised feelings finally coming to the surface. The tears tracked down her face as she fisted her hands at her side. "Morgana and Gwen did it," she said, and gave him a stubborn, churlish look.

Arthur snorted. His expression clearly stated what he thought of Morgana and Gwen's little project. "Take it off this instance," he commanded.

Merlin set her jaw. She didn't try to fight back the tears. "No," she said, meeting his eyes.

"I think you forget who you are talking to," said Arthur menacingly, taking a step forward. Merlin stood her ground. He drew close enough that she could see the rings of dark blue surrounding Arthur's pupils. Merlin raised her chin.

"No," she repeated. She saw Arthur frown and drop his gaze to her red-stained lips.

"As your prince, I command you to take off this ridiculous make-up." Arthur's voice was pitched to threaten.

"I won't," said Merlin, resolutely.

"What happened to your lip?" asked Arthur suddenly. It threw Merlin off and she blurted the truth before she could stop herself.

"Sir Valiant accosted me in the armory."

The color drained from Arthur's face, but two pinpricks of ruddy hue mottled his cheeks. He grabbed Merlin by the shoulders tightly, fingers trembling. "Did he-?" He didn't need to finish the thought.

Merlin, stunned by the passion she saw in Arthur's eyes, mutely shook her head. Her hair shifted around her shoulders, straight and black. Arthur released her. He turned his back and began to walk away without another word. "I know you think I'm trash," Merlin murmured as he moved away from her, loud enough that she knew Arthur could hear, "I just thought it would be nice to feel pretty for a night."

Arthur paused, mid-stride. He looked over his shoulder at her and gave her a brief, complicated glance she couldn't decipher. "You're not pretty," he said, "you're _Merlin_."

He departed and Merlin, after a long moment, left and washed the make up off of her face.


	2. A Stranger Named Cara

**A/N:** Continuing on! These fics will have a general linear feel, but I'm not committing to re-imagining every single episode, lol. This was going to be my fic about Lancelot, but I realized that "The Poisoned Chalice" is an integral part of the Arthur/Merlin relationship and couldn't be ignored. Lance is coming - worry not! He's too sexy not to have his own story. Be on the lookout for: "A Knight Named Lancelot".

Onwards!

**Part the Second**

***

By some unspoken decree, Arthur had decided that he and Merlin were not going to discuss anything of what had gone on during the tournament celebration, a few weeks prior. Merlin wasn't sure why this was suddenly such a taboo subject, but frankly she was growing tired of Arthur's snide comments whenever she happened to do her hair a different way, or wear a dress he hadn't seen her in a million times before.

Today, in rare form, she woke up a little bit early and encountered Gwen on the way to the kitchens. The other girl took one look at her and gave her one of those intentionally sunny smiles that said: _Oh dear_. Gwen placed her small hand in Merlin's and drew her away from the kitchens. They went to Morgana's chambers.

When they arrived, Morgana was sitting up in bed and sipping a cup of juice. She swept her eyes over Merlin once and pointed to the dresser on the other side of the room. "Over there, Gwen," she said with a smirk.

Something told Merlin that she should protest. Secretly, however, she was beginning to enjoy being pampered by Gwen and Morgana - even if _was_ because they thought her a bit of a hopeless cause. Gwen brushed her hair out until it was sleek and smooth and Morgana, rising from bed and looking as magnificent as usual, began to rummage through a large trunk in one corner of the room.

"Err, nothing too fancy, Morgana," Merlin said, her eyes drifting shut like an indulged cat as Gwen tugged her fingers through her hair and began to twist it into a messy bun. "Arthur doesn't like it when I wear something other than the usual frocks." Merlin frowned at her words, though it was the unfortunate truth.

Morgana matched her frown in spades, except hers was supplemented by an impressive expression of disdain that Merlin was glad wasn't meant for her. "Oh that _boy_," Morgana sneered, "would probably like it if you wore a potato sack instead of anything that might," she paused and shared a look with Gwen, "garner unwanted attention." Merlin was confused. Behind her, Gwen burst into a fit of giggles.

"Unwanted attention?" she repeated, feeling somewhat slow and decidedly stupid. Morgana clicked her tongue and favored her with a toothy smile. She held up a dress to Merlin's face to test the color against her skin.

"Sir Owain!" she exclaimed. When Merlin simply stared, Morgana smiled again, gently this time. "Oh dear, Gwen was _right_ about you. Don't worry Merlin, we'll take care of you." She tossed one of the dresses she'd been considering onto the bed and held up a deep red one. Merlin eyed it: it was simple enough to work in, and low cut enough to make her blush just looking at it.

"Arthur's going to hate it," she groused.

"It's perfect then!" Morgana replied with a thoroughly pleased laugh. Merlin thought she understood now what Arthur meant when he called Morgana 'wicked'.

***

Suffice to say, Merlin was late serving Arthur his breakfast. Arthur was not pleased and Merlin found she could really have cared less.

"Where were you?" he said grumpily, spearing a piece of cold ham from the platter. He brought it to his mouth and paused, eyeing her dress. His gaze lingered a touch longer than was proper on the low cut neckline, which offered up Merlin's modest bosom for perusal. He shoved the piece of ham into his mouth and chewed noisily, before swallowing. "I should sack you for wearing that," he said.

Merlin's temper rose dangerously close to the boiling point. She turned to Arthur from where she'd been gathering up his laundry, and felt heat creep along the back of her neck in response to his smug expression. Her mouth drew into a thin line. "Since when is my state of dress any of your concern?" she shot back, absently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She missed how Arthur's eyes tracked the motion and lingered for a moment on her fingers.

"As _my_ maidservant," Arthur replied with a lazy drawl, "it is definitely my concern as to how you present yourself."

Merlin moved to stand next to him and glared down at him while he looked arrogantly up at her from his chair. Her eyes were as cold as ice chips as she stared down into his handsome face. "And how exactly am I presenting myself?" Her tone was thick with venom.

Arthur wasn't impressed. "Like a harlot," he stated.

Merlin fought the urge to stab him with a fork. Her chest heaved as she grasped at her control with a tenuous hold. Merlin rested a hand on her hip and cocked her head to the side. She tried her best to melt him with her eyes. Realistically she could, but explaining why the Crown Prince was suddenly melted into a royal pile of goo, was _not_ a conversation she wanted to have with Uther Pendragon.

"I didn't realize you were so _prudish_, Arthur," she snapped, her lips curling back into a rigid grimace. Her voice was dull, flat, _cold_. Arthur blinked, momentarily taken aback. Merlin counted it as a minor victory. However, Arthur recovered quickly and covered his shock with a scowl.

"Hardly," he said tersely. The word slid out from between his teeth. "And _that_ will _never_ be any of your concern." Arthur turned back to his food and Merlin knew it was a dismissal.

She stood for a moment, her eyes fastened to the back of Arthur's blonde head, and wondered why his words bothered her so much. With a frustrated huff, she gathered the laundry she'd dropped and swept from the room.

***

"How'd Arthur like the dress?" asked Gwen conversationally as she wove another flower into the complicated garland she was working on. Tomorrow, the garlands would decorate the banquet hall in celebration of King Bayard of Mercia's arrival.

Merlin sat with Gwen at the edge of the field where the knights practiced, working on her own garland. She worked hard not to botch yet another one. As it was, Gwen had a neat pile, while she had a pile of stems and flower petals scattered around her.

The tip of Merlin's tongue peeked out from between her lips as she carefully worked a daisy into the garland. "Huh?" she asked, absently. Gwen finished another decoration and placed it atop her neat stack. She reached for more flowers.

"Oh," said Gwen with a small laugh, "was it that bad?" Her tone was all sugar and liquid honey; a soothing voice. It drew Merlin's attention and she finally glanced at her friend. She smiled ruefully.

"You could say that," she replied. "I'm beginning to think Morgana was right: Arthur would prefer me in a potato sack and nothing else." Merlin made a face and Gwen grinned against the back of her hand. Her eyes danced.

"Don't you, um, mean: '_or_' nothing else?" she teased. Merlin threw a flower petal at her and felt a flush of color sweep the high planes of her cheeks. She turned back to her work with a small frown and shook her head.

"You're _mad_," she muttered good-naturedly. "You and Morgana are bloody batty." Merlin fumbled with the flower stem she was wrapping and the whole garland became unraveled. She sighed and tossed the ruined decoration into her growing pile of mutilated flora. She turned back to her friend to say something, when Gwen suddenly stood, startling Merlin. Merlin shaded her eyes and looked up at her, though the sun was at Gwen's back preventing her from seeing her expression.

"I err, um, I'm going to go and get some you know, more flowers," Gwen chirruped in an unusually high-pitched tone. She hurried off before Merlin could tell her that there were more than enough flowers to make several more garlands, in the extra basket they had brought with them. As she watched Gwen's retreating back, her mouth hung open in bewilderment. Had she said something to offend her?

A minute later a shadow fell across her. Merlin looked up and saw Sir Owain standing over her. She thought he looked remarkably well for one sweating in full armor at high noon and was about to say so, when it dawned on her. Oh. _That's_ why Gwen hurried off so quickly.

Merlin was beginning to think that Gwen was more like Morgana than she realized.

"Good afternoon, milord," Merlin said pleasantly, rolling a broken flower stem in between he fingers. Sir Owain didn't reply and after a minute or so of discomfiting silence, Merlin craned her neck to get a better look at his face. She blushed and realized that Sir Owain was looking resolutely over her shoulder, in what she gathered was a chivalrous attempt to _not_ stare down her bodice.

Ah.

Merlin scrambled to her feet ungracefully and brushed bits of flower from her skirt. Sir Owain seemed to breath a sigh of relief; his shoulders relaxed and he finally shifted to regard her fully. Merlin noticed that he looked quite young in full light, probably close to Arthur's age if not a few years younger. He was cute, - not handsome - with slightly rounded, boyish features. In some ways, Sir Owain reminded her of Will.

All at once, Merlin was struck with a fierce pang of homesickness. The feeling closed like iron bands around her chest and threatened to squeeze the air from her lungs. She inhaled sharply and fought down the emotion, though something must have shown on her face because Sir Owain reached out and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Is milady okay? Does something ail you?" he asked. His brow wrinkled in concern.

Merlin gathered herself and smiled at him, slightly overcome and flustered by his show of kindness and worry. Besides Gwen and Morgana, nobody had treated her this nicely since she'd arrived in Camelot. It made her grateful for Sir Owain's unexpected attentions…and suspicious of his motives.

She _wasn't_ beautiful and Sir Owain was a royal knight of Camelot - he likely had his pick of other, far lovelier maidens. Merlin's spirits drooped at the thought and she averted her eyes from his. She fidgeted with the a bit of invisible fluff on her dress.

"I'm fine, thank you for your concern milord," she replied uneasily. She raised her eyes and saw that Owain had drawn closer. Heat rose to her cheeks and for a wild, improbable moment, Merlin thought that he was going to kiss her.

He didn't. Instead, he reached past her cheek and pulled a white flower petal from her hair. He held it up in front of his face to examine it and Merlin, unable to contain herself, was seized by a fit of embarrassed giggles.

Sir Owain stared at her for a moment, perplexed by the turn of events, before he too was infected by Merlin's laughter and joined in. Merlin wiped a tear from her eye and wrapped her arms around herself, completely humiliated but unable to stop the laughing fit. Sir Owain, she decided between gasps of air, had a nice laugh.

"WHAT is going on?" a voice barked from a short distance away. Merlin and Sir Owain turned in unison as Arthur stormed up to them. His steps were heavy and his expression reflected only explosive anger. "I don't remember giving you leave to stand around and _fraternize_," Arthur snarled. Umbrage snaked around his every word and vibrated within his tone.

Merlin opened her mouth to protest as resentment rose in her at being told whom she could and couldn't speak with, when she realized that Arthur wasn't addressing her. He was addressing Sir Owain. Merlin tore her gaze from Arthur's enraged face and slid her eyes to the other knight, instead. Sir Owain's face was pale, chagrined, his head bent beneath the weight of Arthur's rebuke.

His face was turned away from Merlin.

"I think a few laps in full armor around the practice field is suitable punishment, Owain," Arthur said. As Owain replied with a quick, _'yes milord'_, Arthur added: "_now. _."

Sir Owain moved off, though he risked a quick glance at Merlin before tugging on his helmet. He loped off at a slow jog. "Faster!" barked Arthur. He followed the knight for a few feet to lay a series of stinging blows on to the backs of Sir Owain's thighs with the flat of his blade.

Merlin raised her chin angrily when Arthur stalked back to her. She could practically see his irritation seethe from his pores. "What was that for?" she snapped as soon as Arthur was back in earshot. She couldn't keep the slight tremble from her voice, but the expression in her eyes matched his; darker blue, same vexation.

Arthur ignored her question. He moved into her personal space and used his greater bulk to crowd her. His gaze was level with his own. "I'll say this once," he said in a low, gravelly tone, "do _not_ seek to distract my knights like that again. The safety of Camelot may mean little to _you_, but it means everything to me."

Merlin drew herself straighter and became cognizant of the fact that she and Arthur were standing nearly toe-to-toe, chest to chest. "Sir Owain came on his own volition to say hello to me," she replied, matching the deadly softness of his tone. "I was being polite. And Camelot matters to me because," Merlin trailed off and broke their stare, suddenly aware she'd already admitted too much. She worried her bottom lip.

"Because _why_?" Arthur whispered. Merlin looked back at him, and saw the same intensity in his expression that she had witnessed weeks back during the tournament banquet. She blinked.

"Because I am loyal to _you_ despite the fact that you're a royal prat," she said. Arthur stepped back and put on his helmet, half-turning from her to observe his knights on the practice field.

"Then see to it you show it once and awhile," he replied harshly. This time it was Merlin who walked off, turning away from Arthur as she hurried back to the castle. Her head was full of ire and confusion, while her nose was full with the smell of _him_.

***

The next day, the castle was buzzing like an busy hive when King Bayard and his contingent of knights and servants arrived in Camelot. The halls were full with the unfamiliar faces of servants as they continued to serve their lord in foreign territory. Merlin moved through the corridors and wove clumsily in between the press of bodies. She stared at those she didn't know and shared gossip with those she did.

A servant girl tripped in her path and Merlin immediately set down the linens she'd been carrying. She helped the girl to her feet and when she looked at her, Merlin saw that she was very pretty. A scarf tied elaborately around her head tamed her reddish hair and her skin was milky and smooth. Her most striking feature, however, were her large blue eyes - they ensnared Merlin, much to her embarrassment.

The girl seemed lost and out of place and Merlin's heart went out to her: she knew exactly how that felt. "I'm Merlin," she said with a friendly smile.

The girl's pretty eyes widened almost comically and she exclaimed, "You're Prince Arthur's maid!"

Merlin's own eyes widened - how did she know? Was this common knowledge? It was something she'd certainly ask Arthur about later. She blushed a bit as the girl ogled her with admiration. "Err, yes," Merlin replied.

"That's amazing!" the girl said earnestly. "Oh, where are my manners? I'm Cara," she said, finally supplying her name.

"Nice to meet you Cara," Merlin replied. She was a little humbled by the other woman's obvious awe - if only Cara knew what a real pain being Arthur's maidservant actually was. Merlin bent and picked up the linens she'd carelessly discarded. "I better get these to Arth-er, the prince," she said.

Cara nodded and knelt to gather the basket that she'd been carrying. "Thank you for your help Merlin," she said with another pretty smile. She walked off, but when Merlin looked over her shoulder, Cara was looking back at her too.

***

The banquet hall was thick with tension, though both Mercia and Camelot were on their best behaviors. How smoothly this feast went could very well determine whether or not the two countries continued to war. It was all pomp and ceremony Merlin figured, and all of it was terribly boring.

She stood with Gwen unobtrusively to one side as, with grave formality, King Bayard presented Uther and Arthur with gifts. Each of them received a beautifully crafted goblet, each one representing their station. Merlin let her gaze touch upon Arthur's face, as he took his goblet from the box King Bayard presented to him. Arthur's expression was taut, as if his features had been carved from stone. He betrayed nothing, though Merlin knew from living in such close proximity to him, that he was rigid with uneasiness.

She wondered why.

Merlin heard a noise from the hallway and glanced over her shoulder to see Cara gesturing urgently to her from the open door. Merlin glanced around and saw that everyone was otherwise occupied - except for Gaius who frowned at her severely and shook his head. She slid from her place next to Gwen and went to Cara. "What is it?" she asked when Cara tugged her into the hallway. Distress was written clearly on the other girl's face.

Cara leaned in close and she could smell something flowery on her skin. She whispered something into Merlin's ear. Her eyes widened with disbelief.

"Are you sure?" she asked, taking Cara by the shoulders and looking her full in the face. "You have to be sure."

Cara nodded resolutely and Merlin whirled from her without a second thought.

***

_'Because I am loyal to you despite the fact that you're a royal prat.'_

Merlin raised the goblet to her lips. The dark red liquid sloshed benignly within the cup. The room was loud with strained silence that pounded in her ears and every eye was on her. King Bayard was rigid with tension; this all hinged on her. Arthur began to step forward. She could see the protest forming on his tongue.

_'Then see to it you show it once and awhile.'_

Merlin met Arthur's gaze and held it. Then she tipped her head back and drained the goblet in one, long swallow.

A minute passed. Those from Mercia released a collective breath, relieved...and outraged. King Bayard demanded she be handed over to him, as per the agreement. Thirty seconds later, Merlin collapsed to the ground in a lifeless heap. The goblet rolled from her slack fingers.

***

Merlin heard voices whispering to her from beyond a pristine white veil. It fluttered in the wind, skipping along the air currents in a slow, sensuous dance.

_"Come,"_ whispered the voices, _"follow."_

Merlin reached her hands out to touch the veil. When her fingers brushed it, they were scalded with heat. Her skin was came off in flakes, burned, the tips blackened. Her flesh was scorched to the bone. Merlin screamed until her voice was hoarse.

She burned.

The voices continued to whisper. They slid over her like cool water, soothing away the hurt, promising relief with every syllable. _'Come,'_ whispered the voices, _"follow."_

Merlin dragged her burned body through the grass, her flesh peeling off with every brush along her skin. Blood trailed behind her. Still she crawled, chasing the veil, drawn by the voices.

_'Come,'_ whispered the voices, _"follow."_

***

Merlin couldn't crawl anymore. Her body was rubbed raw, skin sloughed off to reveal muscle and red blood vessels that pulsed with each tired beat of her heart. She didn't want to follow the voices anymore. She didn't want to go where they went. Still, the veil wrapped around her wrists and dragged her with it. It scraped her along the ground like it was scraping mud from its shoe.

Her world was agony.

She lay with her cheek pressed against the dry grass, lips cracked and chapped, still eaten by fire that burned through her veins. Barely, she clung to life. Merlin breathed laboriously. Each breath rattled wetly in her lungs.

She closed her eyes and when she did, she saw Arthur.

His cheek was pressed against stone and around him was complete darkness. The inky blackness was like a living thing that pressed in on him from every angle. The darkness breathed against the back of Arthur's neck; Merlin could see it stir the fine hairs there. As she watched, Arthur's turned and looked blindly into the endless dark. He said a word. He said her name.

_"Merlin."_

And suddenly, a pale, glowing light, pierced the darkness around Arthur.

***

Distantly, Merlin could feel the dampness of her skin and the soreness of her body, as the fire in her bones slowly began to ebb. Her muscles hurt; no, _everything_ hurt.

But she was alive.

Merlin moaned and shifted, fighting to awaken. She was held pinned by the weakness of her body as the fire within her receded. She moaned again, then felt a hand on her forehead, dry and cool against the heated flush of her skin. The hand was a small, fingers slender, as they pushed the hair back from her face and trailed down her cheek.

Something quieted within Merlin. Stillness overtook her, creeping through her limbs and blanketing her senses until she was filled with blissful nothingness. It seemed like she remained that way for a lifetime.

Merlin opened her eyes.

Shapes swam in her vision, blurry at first, before they sharpened to reveal the concerned visages of Gaius and Gwen. Her body jerked; air flooded her lungs. Merlin sucked air into herself in great, shuddering bursts, as if somewhere along the line she'd forgotten how to breathe.

Gwen threw her arms around Merlin's neck and hugged her close. Her breath was a hushed sob of joy in Merlin's ear. Merlin smiled, returning her embrace awkwardly, when Gwen drew back and of all things _kissed_ her.

Merlin's lips were dry but Gwen's were soft and plump and wet with tears. She tasted a hint of salt. Gwen pulled back with an apologetic smile and retreated a few steps. "Sorry," said Gwen with a pretty blush on her dusky cheeks, "I'm just so happy."

"Um, sure," Merlin croaked painfully. She managed a somewhat dazed twist of her lips and then asked for water.

***

Gwen's way of apologizing for kissing Merlin - which was silly, as Merlin thought the kiss had been rather pleasant, overall - was to wash her hair. She arrived a few days later with a basin of water and some soap, and bid Merlin to lean back in her chair while she tended to her dirty locks. Briefly, Merlin wondered if Gwen did this for Morgana. Nevertheless, it was a relief to have the smell of sweat rinsed away and replaced by the faint scent of roses.

Afterwards, Gwen sat and chatted with her as she mended some of Morgana's clothing. Merlin was happy for the company, which provided a welcome distraction from boredom. She still felt weak and her strength had only just begun to return, but Merlin was going stir-crazy in her quarters, quarantined to the ward per Gaius' instructions.

When her hair had dried enough, Gwen fixed it up into some sort of elaborate coiffure that Merlin was sure looked odd considering her sickly appearance. She thanked Gwen anyway and smiled as her friend hurried off to attend her chores elsewhere, leaving her alone.

Merlin wrapped herself in a blanket and placed her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands as she let her thoughts drift. Her eyes began to droop.

"If you're that bored I should put you back to work early."

Merlin nearly jumped out of her skin with surprise. She turned in her seat to regard Arthur, who was standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. They stared at each other for a moment, the silence between them uncomfortable before Arthur stepped into the room. "You're a real idiot, you know that?" he said, but Merlin caught the softness beneath his words; the worry. She rolled her eyes at him and tried not to smile.

"Yes, well I don't expect I'll be drinking poison for you again," she replied, a shadow of a grin hovering around her lips despite her best effort to keep her expression serious. "That was a one time deal, milord."

Arthur snorted. "And don't _you_ expect me to go running off to some dank cave again, just to fetch you a pretty flower," he said. A corner of his mouth tugged upwards and Merlin felt her face break into a relieved smile. The strain that had wound between them melted away, and for the first time Merlin thought she understood Arthur just a little better.

Arthur pinched the head off of a daisy from a bouquet of flowers that had been arranged in a ceramic vase on the table. "From Sir Owain?" he asked. Merlin nodded and a shadow briefly flitted across Arthur's handsome face. He glanced at her and she saw his eyes drift up to touch upon the intricate coiffure that Gwen had coiled her hair into. His mouth opened and Merlin braced herself for whatever acrid comment Arthur was sure to make. Arthur, however, only said, "Your hair looks…complicated."

Merlin blinked and her mind went blank with shock. Before she could respond, Arthur turned on his heel and strode from the room. He turned back at the door to tell her that he expected her back at work first thing tomorrow morning.

His voice drifted to her from the hallway, "And I actually mean the _morning_, Merlin."

(To be continued.)


End file.
